


Horribly Unfair

by LawrenceKinden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bare Bottom, Bra Snap, Bully, Horribly Unfair, Nonconsensual, Pink Panties, Principal Spanks Student, School, Secretary Spanks Student, Spanking, corner time, principal, principal's office, spank, wedgie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrenceKinden/pseuds/LawrenceKinden
Summary: Cosette's pretty pink dress has garnered unwanted attention. [Story Depicts Spanking]
Kudos: 19





	Horribly Unfair

Cosette was proud of her new dress. Bright pink with flowing sleeves, pleated skirt and frilly hem, she liked the way it looked on her. She had chosen cute little ankle socks with pink stripes to match the bright pink underpanties with white trim and pale pink hearts. Not that anyone would see the underpanties, but it made her feel cute to know they were there. And though her mother didn't let her wear makeup, she'd taken extra time with her hair that morning. 

When she entered homeroom, all her friends told her how cute she looked and even Shannon, who was sometimes a bitch, said she was pretty. Cosette was all smiles as she took her seat behind Peter. He looked over his shoulder at her when she sat and grinned at her. Cosette hoped he might also say something about how cute she looked, but he said nothing. Which was fine, because he’d grinned at her when usually he paid her no mind. Peter was the cutest boy in homeroom and all the girls wanted his attention.

It was halfway through first period homeroom when Cosette suddenly felt a brush against the inside of her left knee. Startled, and fearing a spider had climbed up her leg, she shifted and brushed her hand to swat at it, but there was nothing. She looked around to find everyone else studiously focused on their homework. No one seemed to have noticed her sudden movement or the phantom spider. She shrugged it off and turned back to her math homework.

A few minutes later, it happened again.

This time, rather than brush at it with her hand, Cosette slapped her knees together, hoping to dislodge the troublesome bug. But when her knees met, she realized it was too fleshy and boney to be a spider.

Peter jumped.

Cosette realized the boy had snaked his hand behind his chair, underneath her desk to touch her bare knee with his finger. Peter jerked his hand back. Cosette hunched her shoulders and blushed. Peter was cute to be sure, and she kind of thought she might like to be his girlfriend, but they’d barely ever spoken, and him touching her without her expecting it made her stomach clench.

For several minutes, Cosette stared at the back of Peter’s head, wondering if she should say something. Perhaps she should tell Peter how uncomfortable that had mad her. Perhaps she should tell Mr. Muller, the homeroom teacher. But the thought of explaining what had happened embarrassed her, so she bit her tongue and looked down at her math homework.

She couldn’t concentrate.

A few minutes on, through her peripheral vision, she saw Peter shift, his left arm sneak behind his chair, under her desk. His finger touched the inside of her knee and she tensed.

“Stop it,” she whispered.

Peter’s hand pulled back, but only a moment before reaching for her again.

“I said stop,” she said louder, gaining the attention of the class.

From his desk at the front, Mr. Muller looked up over his glasses, expression irritated. “Ms. Avila, is there a problem?” he said in his sharpest tone.

Cosette swallowed hard. Admitting the boy she thought was cute was touching her bare leg when she didn’t want him to made her cheeks burn so that tears welled in her eyes. But she wanted him to stop and he hadn’t, so she had to say something, even if it was embarrassing. She opened her mouth to speak, but she’d hesitated too long.

“You know I expect silence during homeroom. Now’s a time for studying, not chatting,” Mr. Muller said. “I’ll speak with you after class, Ms. Avila.”

An excited susurrus filled the room for bare a moment as Mr. Muller gave them all a sharp look.

“Silence,” he said.

Cosette was well aware of what staying after class with Mr. Muller meant, and she couldn’t stop the tears sliding down her face. Unable to concentrate on her math, she nonetheless tried to keep the tears from smudging the work she’d already done. When Peter’s reached back again, she only tensed at his touch. She didn’t object either with her knees or her voice and Peter caressed her thigh just above her knee in small, uncomfortable circles.

When the bell rang, Cosette stood abruptly, gathered her things, and stuffed them in her bag, hurrying to the front of the room and Mr. Muller’s desk. Though she dreaded his chastisement, it was far better than Peter’s trespassing finger.

The classroom cleared quickly. Cosette kept her eyes on Mr. Muller’s desk, not wanting to look at Peter. Not wanting to look at Shannon. Not wanting to look at any of her friends or classmates. She wondered if they knew what Peter had done. She wondered if they knew how embarrassed she was. How ashamed she felt. She wondered if she should have done something more, spoken louder, perhaps hit him. But Cosette did not like to speak up, she didn’t want to hurt anybody, and she hated confrontation.

“This is the third time this week I’ve kept you after for chatting during homeroom,” Mr. Muller said, his voice shocking her from her thoughts.

She jumped and bit her tongue. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

“I ought to spank you.”

Cosette sniffled and blinked away tears. It was true. Cosette had earned more than one swat on her bottom for breaking the rule about chatter during homeroom. But this time it was unfair. It was Peter’s fault, Peter’s trespass.

“I… But Peter…”

Mr. Muller quirked and eyebrow at her. He waited a moment more and his frown deepened. Then he sighed. “But I can see you’re quite sorry, so we’ll call it even. Hurry to class, young lady.” 

Cosette made her way quickly through the hallways, threading between students, trying not to brush against anyone, trying not to cry. She burst into the girls’ bathroom and immediately made for an empty sink. She turned the water on cold and splashed it on her face.

“Did Mr. Muller spank your naughty bottom, then?” Shannon asked in her snotty tone.

Cosette froze. She should have made sure she was alone first. With all the aplomb she could manage, Cosette straightened and took a paper towel from the dispenser. She dried her face and looked at the other girl.

“No. He just gave me a warning.” Her voice trembled.

Shannon made a disappointed sound.

Chelsea, a friend, shouldered past Shannon. “What’s wrong? You were acting kind of twitchy in homeroom. Are you sick?”

Cosette shook her head. She wanted to tell them what a creep Peter had been. Embarrassment crawled up her chest and grabbed her throat. But not speaking up earlier had only got her scolded in front of class, so she swallowed hard and said, “Peter touched me. Behind his chair. Under the desk.”

Shannon snickered, but Chelsea gasped.

“You mean, like,” Chelsea gestured vaguely.

“Only my knee,” Cosette was quick to say. “But it was under my skirt a little bit, and I wanted him to stop, but he...”

Shannon laughed. “Maybe if you weren’t dressed like such a little slut.”

Chelsea shrugged uncomfortably. “That’s not nice...”

But Cosette didn’t hang around to hear her friend defend her. She fled the bathroom, trying desperately not to cry all the way to second period. She didn’t share second period with Peter, thankfully. Mr. Hanley guided them through poetry reading for forty-five minutes, but Cosette couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t stop thinking about Peter, how he’d touched her and she’d gotten in trouble for it. When the bell rang and she made her way to third period, she was in a fog of confusion, uncertain what to do, how to feel. She wanted to call Peter out, but the thought made her squirm with shame. She wanted to pretend it had never happened, but she couldn't make herself not think about it. 

Her fog made her slow and by the time she was nearly to her third period class, the halls were largely empty. The warning bell rang, jogging her from her reverie. She was about to quicken her pace when a tug at her skirt caught her attention. Next thing she knew, someone had tugged the skirt high over her waist, pulling her off balance and making her stumble. Desperately, Cosette swung her arm to push her skirt down and turn at the same time.

She found Peter and a trio of boys she didn’t know. They all howled with delight, laughing and slapping each other’s backs. Cosette knew they’d have gotten an eye-full of her bright pink underpanties with white trim and pale pink hearts. Furious, she smoothed her skirt over her backside and adjusted her clothes so they sat properly.

“Don’t touch me! Just stay away!”

The boys only laughed harder.

Impotent in her rage, Cosette stormed into third period. Peter followed her into Mr. Rambeau’s room where they shared third period math. Cosette chose a seat by the wall and Peter took the seat next to her.

“Go away,” she hissed. “I don’t want you next to me.”

Peter shrugged. “Oh come on, I’m just goofing around.”

“I don’t like it,” Cosette said.

“Sure you do,” said Peter. “Everyone knows you want to be my girlfriend.”

“Says who?”

Peter grinned. “You like it and you know it, or you wouldn’t have worn such a short dress.”

Cosette smoothed her skirt over her thighs. “I didn’t wear it for you.”

Peter licked his lips and shrugged. “Fine. Be that way then. I was just trying to have a little fun.”

The bell rang and Mr. Rambeau called for their attention. Math class passed much the way English had with Cosette furious and unable to concentrate, especially with Peter so near. She did her best to focus but was grateful when the bell rang and she was free. She debated trying to leave quickly so as to outrun Peter, but decided she wasn’t fast enough and the hall would be crowded. She approached Mr. Rambeau instead, hoping to talk to the teacher long enough Peter would get bored and leave.

“Yes, Ms. Avila?” Mr. Rambeau said. He was an unusually gruff teacher and she avoided talking to him one on one when she could, but today she was desperate.

“I was wondering if you could help me...” she trailed off and cleared her throat. “I was wondering...” She didn’t know what to say and her mind was drawing a blank.

“Yes?” he demanded. 

His rough voice and stern look closed her throat.

“Mr. Muller told me you were acting out this morning,” Mr. Rambeau said. He cleared his throat, a sound like gravel falling into a pit. “Are you looking to make up a smacked bottom? I haven’t time to waste.”

Cosette blinked rapidly and backed up several steps, a few tears sliding down her cheeks. “Um, no. No sir. I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

A quick look around told her the room was empty, and for that at least she was grateful. She made her way to fourth period, looking frantically over her shoulder, afraid Peter would try to lift her skirt again should she be caught unawares. Fourth period, thankfully, was art, and Mr. Jay was a laid back sort. Peter wasn’t in this class, so she was free to sit where she liked without fear he’d encroach.

“Well if it isn’t little miss slutty skirt.” Shannon plopped down beside Cosette with a snicker and a nudge.

Cosette bit her lip and tried not to cry. She'd forgotten Shannon was in this class.

“It’s just a joke, you big baby,” Shannon said. “Besides, I thought you liked Peter.”

“It’s not about that,” said Chelsea, as she sat on Cosette’s other side. “He shouldn't do it if she said not to.”

Cosette appreciated her friend sticking up for her, especially when she didn’t think she could speak for herself without dissolving into sobs.

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t ask for it if you don’t want it,” Shannon said. “It’s like teasing a boy and then expecting not to get chased. Or talking in class and expecting not to get spanked. If you don’t want the consequences, don’t invite them.”

“I didn’t,” Cosette whispered.

Shannon snorted and rolled her eyes.

Chelsea rubbed Cosette’s back gently.

Mr. Jay passed out supplies and had them get started. It was a free drawing day, so Cosette was free to doodle aimlessly while her mind wandered. Thankfully, Chelsea and Shannon moved on to other topics.

At lunch, Cosette sat by herself. She went to the corner table, the one reserved for kids causing a ruckus in the lunchroom. Normally she’d have been embarrassed to sit there, a sure sign she’d gotten in trouble, but it was empty and no one else would sit there unless told to, which is what she wanted. She focused on her meatloaf and salad, telling herself she had to eat even though her appetite was nonexistent. She forced herself to eat a cherry tomato and a baby carrot and a whole fork-full of lettuce before she decided she’d had enough. She was about to raise her hand to be excused when somebody tugged on her from behind.

She’d been so focused on her food she hadn’t been paying attention to the world around her. Someone had snuck up behind her.

The tug almost pulled her out of her seat and she only just caught herself when whoever it was let go and her bra strap snapped hard into her back with a crack that broke through the babble of the lunchroom. A gale of giggles erupted and Cosette felt her face go red. She reacted without thinking. She grabbed her tray, stood, and spun to find Peter flanked by his stupid friends, a smug grin on his stupid face, and she swung her tray of food as hard as she could at his stupid head.

The second crack stopped the giggles and the room fell to frightened silence. Peter staggered back, wincing. His friends backed up, startled. Food spattered across the floor and the boys. After a few moments more, Peter recovered and looked at her, eyes angry, but she raised her tray and took a step and the boys scattered. A new ripple of laughter bloomed through the room and Cosette was satisfied for a moment.

Then Mrs. Vectra was there. She was secretary to Mr. Buck, the principal. Sometimes Mrs. Vectra supervised the lunchroom. Obviously, she’d seen what Cosette had done, for she grabbed Cosette, her long, sharp fingernails digging into Cosette’s armpit, and lifted her to her tippy toes.

“You will come with me this instant!” Mrs. Vectra pulled Cosette along through a lunchroom startled to silence again.

“But he—”

“I don’t want to hear it. You should know better.”

The trip from the lunchroom down the hallway to the principal’s office was a blur of panic and tears. Cosette had been spanked plenty of times by teachers, but never by the principal. Soon she stood next to Mrs. Vectra’s desk, inside the administrators’ office, just outside the principal’s. Mrs. Vectra wrenched the cafeteria tray from Cosette’s hands. Cosette stared at it in awe. She hadn’t realized she’d hung on to it. Mrs. Vectra set it on her desk, then grabbed Cosette’s shoulders from behind, thumbs digging into her shoulder blades, and steered her firmly to the corner.

“You are a nasty little girl,” Mrs. Vectra said. She smacked Cosette’s backside three times.

The sound crashed in Cosette’s ears. She whimpered and hunched. Mrs. Vectra released her, but a few moments later, Cosette felt Mrs. Vectra lifting her skirt and pinning it to the back of her dress, exposing her pink underpanties with the pale pink hearts.

Cosette cried. She’d seen other students standing in this very corner, underpanties on display. It was a sign of having been quite naughty. Of having been spanked and of another spanking sure to come. Cosette didn’t think she’d been naughty. Sure, hitting Peter had been bad, but he was the one who’d been naughty, who’d touched her without permission, who’d flipped up her skirt, who'd snapped her bra. She didn’t think it was fair that she should be spanked and not him. 

Mrs. Vectra finished pinning up her skirt, then spanked her again, a quick slap on her underpanties.

Cosette cried out.

“Mr. Buck will give you something to really cry about.”

Cosette did not know for how long she stood there, bottom stinging and cheeks burning, but eventually she heard the deep rumble of Mr. Buck’s voice, the heavy tread of his steps.

“This way, young lady.”

He didn’t sound mad, but he did sound stern and before she could turn he took her by the shoulder and steered her into his office. Cosette expected him to sit behind his desk and glare at her while she fidgeted nervously. Instead, he sat on the couch against the side wall and gave her a small smile. Mr. Buck was a balding man with a thick moustache and a widening paunch. He sat with his legs apart to make way for his belly.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Ms. Avila.”

Cosette swallowed hard and her throat tightened. But not speaking up is what had gotten her into this mess to begin with. If she had just been able to tell Mr. Muller when Peter had touched her knee, then all this would be over. So she clasped her hands at her waist and cleared her throat and explained what Peter had done. Mr. Buck nodded along as she told her story, occasionally pursing his lips. When she was done, she was crying again and wiped at her tears.

Mr. Buck cleared his throat. “But did you really need to hit him?” he asked.

Cosette sniffled and shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry. But he shouldn’t have—”

“And do you think there should be no consequences for hitting a classmate?”

Cosette put one hand to her bottom, her skirt still pinned up. She rubbed reflexively at her pantyclad bottom and remembered the office door was still open.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Buck. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Ms. Avila. But I wonder if you understand the consequences of your actions.”

Cosette blinked at him. “The consequences of… my actions?”

“Teasing a boy the way you did."

“But I…”

Mr. Buck held up a finger. “Cute little skirts…” he reached out and tugged the hem of her skirt where it still hung down in front, “Cute little smiles…” he tapped her nose and she flinched back. “You know what you did,” Mr. Buck continued. “You know you teased that boy. Do you really think you didn’t deserve to get teased back?”

Cosette shook her head. She hadn’t done anything to tease him and even if she had she didn’t think what he had done could be qualified as teasing. But Mr. Buck didn’t take her meaning. Instead, he tapped the side of his nose and his grin broadened, making his moustache bush out.

“I’m glad we understand each other, Ms. Avila. Now, the boy you hit has a pretty nasty bruise, but I’m willing to let you off with a warning this once if you—“

“I didn’t tease him!” Cosette interrupted, voice high but strong.

Mr. Buck’s indulgent smile faded to a frown. “Now, now. I won’t have any outbursts in here.”

“I didn’t tease him.” She tried to keep her voice calm.

“I’m beginning to lose patience, Ms. Avila. Little girls like you need to realize there are consequences for dressing the way you have.”

Cosette stomped a foot. He wasn’t listening. He was just assuming he knew what happened, knew what she’d done, knew what she intended.

"I did not—" 

She gasped when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the inside of his left thigh, which was more than broad enough to support her small frame. He bent her over easily and put a hand on her back to keep her there. For a moment, Cosette was too stunned to react. Then he put a thumb in the waist of her underpanties and pulled them to her knees. Cosette squealed. She reached back with both hands to try to cover her bottom, but his left hand was more than enough to take both her wrists together. She tried to kick and arch, but he trapped her legs between his thick thighs. He was so much bigger and stronger, there was nothing she could do but squirm as he raised his large hand and brought it down on her small, naked bottom.

Cosette squealed again.

Mr. Buck’s hand was heavy and large. It covered her entire bottom with one smack. Worst of all, she remembered, the office door was still open. Anyone coming by would not only hear her getting spanked, but see it too. They would see her trapped over Mr. Buck's lap like a little child, see her bare bottom as he smacked it again and again and again.

Unable to do anything else, Cosette cried and sobbed and hiccoughed. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her chest heaved. Her legs kicked. Her whole body felt it was on fire. She couldn’t think or object. She couldn’t apologize or beg. She couldn’t even remember that she didn’t want to apologize.

When it was over, all Cosette could do was lay over Mr. Buck’s thigh and sob. He released her, but she couldn’t push herself up, and he let her be for a while. A small mercy. Eventually, when her sobbing subsided and she could breathe somewhat normally, he pulled her to her feet, steered her to the corner, and left her there, throbbing bottom on full display. She tried not to, but the tears returned and she leaned her head against the corner of the wall.

After a while, Mr. Buck returned. He took hold of her underpanties and pulled them up, the knuckle of his thumb blunt against the crease of her bottom. He tugged a bit too snuggly, so her underpanties were uncomfortable wedged. But her bottom throbbed so thoroughly, she didn’t dare adjust them. Mr. Buck unclipped her skirt from her dress, letting it fall, and patted her bottom gently.

“Your mother’s here.”

Her heart stopped. She bit her lip. Cosette turned to find her mom waiting in the middle of the doorway, arms crossed, lips thin. 


End file.
